


Wolf Like Me

by Vmello



Series: Mythic verse [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mythic au, Werewolf!Cullen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vmello/pseuds/Vmello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian has been looking for a place to call home ever since he was forced out of Tevinter. Perhaps he found it in Skyhold, where the people are welcoming, and he's allowed to live his life as he wishes. Or perhaps the werewolf that keeps showing up at his house every full moon is going to eat his face off. Who knows?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wolf and I

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a give away prize for [thetrashhero](http://thetrashhero.tumblr.com/) who asked for Cullrian with Werewolf!Cullen, which I can honestly say is one of my favorite things anyone has ever prompted me. 
> 
> This is set in the same kind of universe as my fic [Eat You Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5076241/chapters/11672800) which I call the Mythic au which I posted on my tumblr a while ago [here](http://av-mello.tumblr.com/post/129720905021/av-mello-ok-so-i-have-a-cullrian-or-mhawkris)
> 
> but if you don't feel like looking at that the only keywords you really need to know are:  
> Mythics= Any being that has magical properties or descends from magic  
> Witches= Humanoid mythics, such as vampires, mages, werewolves, sirens, faeries ext  
> Beasts= Animal like mythics, such as dragons, griffons, unicorns, sphinxes ext  
> Circles= A registry that all mythics are forced to be in. Unregistered mythics are outlaws.  
> Templars= A police force that specifically monitors and hunts mythics  
> Seekers= A variation of Templars that work more specifically as parole officers and detectives

It’s already been a month since Dorian moved to Skyhold and he is still barely unpacked. It’s not like he has many things to begin with, before moving here he had been living city to city, moving from motel to motel until he had to move again. He hadn’t had a place for himself in a long time, not since he had to leave his crappy studio apartment in Orlais over a year ago, and even that only lasted a few months. This feels no different. Skyhold doesn’t feel like home to him. He doesn’t even have a real bed yet, instead spending his nights sleeping on the futon in the living room. Part of him expects to be uprooted somehow again. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but it’s happened so many times in the past even the concept of permanency feels like some far off dream. Just a fairytale. 

He thought he had lucked out at Haven. He was staying an affordable hotel run by Eris Adaar, an open minded and generous Tal Vashoth mage from Seheron. They hit it off well immediately and she seemed more than willing to accept him as a permanent resident at the Singing Maiden hotel, saying he reminded her of herself when she and her mother fled south when she was still just a young girl. It also didn’t hurt that she was fine with him running his ‘business’ from his room. 

He wasn’t sure how to ask her at first, but he didn’t feel comfortable practicing magic in her establishment without her permission first, not after all she had done for him. He tried to be subtle about it but that just lead to her thinking he was a prostitute. “There’s nothing wrong with that!” she said. “But I can’t knowingly have that kind of business going down in my place, legal reasons and all that.” After a bit of explaining she let out a relieved sigh and granted him her permission.

“So you’re what? A craigslist witchdoctor?” She said with a laugh. She called him a fucking ‘craigslist witchdoctor’ of all the things. He hated it, but in all honesty it was a disappointingly well fitting title, especially with all the hokey seances the people in Haven seemed interested in having. It’s not entirely surprising, with the small town’s history with cults and religious artifacts. In Tevinter he was a Scientist and an Enchanter first and foremost, a widely respected one at that, and now he was practically pimping out his magic to anyone who could find a use for it, at least until he could find something more respectable. He felt like it was all a waste of his genius and his potential, but it put food on the table and a little more. 

Things had been going so well, until an avalanche destroyed half the town. An  
_avalanche_ of all things. Five years ago Dorian had never even seen real snow. He did what he could to help out in the aftermath of the disaster, but there wasn’t much left for him in Haven, and he was just taking up space that other people needed now in the hotel, so he decided to leave. Eris helped him find a place when he told her he was leaving. She suggested Skyhold, only a few hours away, and together they found him a decent apartment. One bed, one bath, a decently sized living room and a small kitchen/dining room combo. It even has a basement that he could convert into a lab if he could get the proper license from the local circle. 

The apartment is nice, Skyhold in general is nice. Dorian’s surprised to find a city so far south with such a large presence of mythics and so little Templar monitoring. He feels like most of the residents he met so far are registered witches, and it reminded him a bit of home, where mythics had more freedoms than the south had to offer. People were still suspicious of him because of his Tevinter nationality, but no one was openly malicious. Even Cassandra, the Seeker in charge of monitoring him, has been nothing short of welcoming, despite her wariness. Which is more than could be said about any of the other Seekers he’d been assigned to since he’d moved south. 

Dorian loses himself to thoughts about his past, how he ended up in Skyhold and all of the places he was before now. His tea turns cold in his mug as he stares out his window in the the clear black night, thinking about where he might end up next, if this place doesn’t work out for him. He wants it to work, the people he’s met so far are interesting, he’d dare say he might have even made some friends already. He’s not sure how long he sits like that, but he’s dozing off when a scratching noise at the front door snaps him back to reality.

It immediately sets him on edge. His eyes seek out the harsh light of the digital clock under the T.V. and he has to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust enough for the red blurs of light to form numbers for him. _Fasta vass_ , it’s just past two a.m. The scratching at the door starts up again, this time accompanied by a high whining noise and Dorian swears under his breath. He scrambles to get his staff out from under the futon then cautiously tiptoes his way to the door. 

It’s unlikely his father has found him again, and even if he did he would never send someone amateur enough to try the front door. It’s not entirely out of the question that someone has decided they don’t like having an ‘evil Tevinter Magister’ in their city and is lashing out. Either way it would be dangerous to let his guard down. 

Dorian holds his breath as he peek out the peephole on his door, then recoils quickly with a loud swear at what he sees. He slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from making any more noise. Honestly, he thinks to himself, he shouldn’t be so surprised, werewolves are almost painfully common in Ferelden, but there is currently one _on his porch_ so he feels permitted to feel as shocked as he damn well pleases.

He wonders for a moment if its Sera. She’s one of the few people he’s met since moving to Skyhold that he would consider calling a friend, and one of the only werewolves he knows personally. He doubts it. Sera is tiny, petite even for an elf, and the wolf on his porch looks massive, bigger than any elven werewolf Dorian has ever seen. 

There’s another whimper from the other side of the door, and Dorian takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart, and leans over to get a peek out the small sliver of window next to his door for a better look at the beast sitting on his porch. Fasta vass it’s even bigger than he thought. Definitely not Sera. 

The wolfman was currently sitting up on its haunches, one massive paw on the door, head cocked to the side and ears perked up. It was hard to get an idea of its fur color in shadowy darkness of the night, but it was definitely light. Not white, possibly a dusty brown, or maybe goldish copper if the way it shined in the moonlight was any indication. It wasn’t just tall, but also muscular, impressively thick at the shoulders.

Dorian has only seen a handful of werewolves up close in his life, they were incredibly uncommon in Tevinter so he’d never seen one until he started traveling. The only two he’d seen up close during a full moon were elves. Fenris, a companion to the champion of Kirkwall who nearly mauled him when he had the misfortune to run across them one full moon during his stay in the hellish city state, and Solas, an unregistered lone wolf, so to speak, he had traveled with briefly when he first arrived in Orlais. Both were impressive and intimidating in their own ways, but neither held a candle to the wolf on his doorstep right now in size. 

The wolf’s ears twitch, it raises up higher on his haunches and whimpers again. Dorian leans in closer to the window to try and get a better idea of what it’s doing, and realizes it’s currently trying to look through the peephole. It drops down onto all fours with a huff and a whine when it realizes its not going to see in that way, and before Dorian can dodge out of view it looks over to the window he’s currently looking through. 

The creature’s demeanor changes as soon as it lays eyes on Dorian. It perks up immediately, it’s tail flopping excitedly side to side. It moves forward towards the window, it’s mouth open in a happy, panting grin, exposing rows a large sharp teeth and Dorian tumbles back gracelessly. He gapes at the beast as it presses its face in close to the window, eyeing him curiously. It settles down in that spot, its nose pressed to the window, its tongue occasionally licking at the cool glass of the window as it rests its head on its paws. Maker’s hairy ass, the thing is staring at Dorian with _puppy eyes._

For a moment Dorian doesn’t know what to do, he just stares into the big, amber eyes of the creature staring at him. Finally he closes his mouth with a snap and slowly stands up. The wolf lifts it head, following the motion of Dorian standing and starts to pant happily again. Hesitantly at first Dorian makes a shooing motion with his hands, then stands a little firmer. 

“Shoo, scram,” he says, and the wolf's ears flop down, it’s jaws snapping shut as it lets out a whine. “Maker, please leave,” Dorian tries again and the wolfman stares at him with heartbreakingly sad eyes and Dorian feels almost like he’s kicked a puppy. A massive, puppy with teeth the size of his fingers. The wolfman presses its nose against the window again with one last whine before turning around and slowly stalking off the porch into the yard with its tail between its legs. 

‘What did I do to deserve this?’ Dorian thinks to himself as he watches the werewolf sniff around his yard for a moment, throwing a sad look over its shoulder before going down the street. As soon as it’s out of sight he pulls his curtains shut on all the windows in his house, checks to make sure all the doors are locked, and, just to be safe, adds wards to the doors and windows. 

Dorian doesn’t sleep much that night. He stays up wondering who the werewolf could have been and why they ended up on his front porch. Perhaps it was the person who owned of the house before he moved in. It’s not entirely unlikely; werewolves weren’t always aware of where they went when they shifted and often enough went places they felt familiar with or connected to. Ferelden isn’t nearly as strict about its full moon lockdown as most countries, but the realtor would have told him about that possibility wouldn’t they? It’s just seems like common courtesy, like disclosing that there was a recent death in the house they are selling. Right? Unless the person was unregistered, which could mean they are dangerous.

Due to his werewolf based anxiety Dorian has just as much trouble staying asleep as he does falling asleep, causing him to wake up at, what according to him, is an ungodly hour. He cautiously pulls open his curtains, letting early morning light stream into his house, and he removes his wards.

By the time he thinks it's a reasonable enough hour he calls his landlord. The conversation takes longer than Dorian had hoped it would. Technically the landlord isn’t supposed to give information on whether or not their tenants are mythics or not, but Dorian charms them enough to get a vague enough answer that the landlord doesn't feel like they will get themselves in trouble. Dorian’s not sure whether to feel relieved that it couldn't be a former tenant, or if he's even more worried.

He’s not sure what to do next. He could report it to Cassandra, but that would just lead to having Templars monitoring his house. Even if he isn’t doing anything illegal, the last thing he wants is to give the southern Templars a reason to target him. The wolf didn't seem to be at all aggressive, and it did leave after he asked it to, so maybe he doesn't have to do anything. Still, not knowing will eat away at him, so he texts Sera, who promptly tells him to ‘fuck right off’ because it’s the day after the full moon and she plans to sleep the whole day. 

He lets out a sigh. Really he should have expected that, it’s not even noon yet, she wouldn’t want to talk this early on a regular day, let alone the day after a full moon. He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to decide what to do with the rest of the morning. He’s not used to having this much daytime to work with. He tidies up the living room, and contemplates unpacking more. He reasons with himself that he can put if off for a little while longer, and goes to make breakfast instead. At least he would have made breakfast if he had any food in his house that wasn’t microwave dinners, half eaten bags of doritos, or mystery leftovers from meals he doesn’t remember even having. 

Dorian decides to just go to the cafe down the road to get a muffin and load up on caffeine. He gets dressed in just a simple black v-neck t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans and pulls on his jacket. He takes enough time to tame his moustache, and only enough to make his hair look like it’s deliberately messy, and not just bedhead. Normally he puts more effort into how he looks, but normally he isn’t awake while during the morning, and normally he isn’t up half the night because of overgrown dogmen. 

Dorian isn’t really expecting many people to be out right now. He knows, theoretically, that most people are active this time of day, but he’s rarely awake to see actual proof of it. It offends him on an almost spiritual level that there are people in this world who identify as ‘morning people’, but he does his best to smile back to Mr. Cadash who lives across the way when the man waves at him. He also stops to chat briefly with Cole, who lives in the apartment next to his. The odd young man is walking what looks like a hairless rat around his yard on a leash. Dorian is too tired to bother questioning it, assuming it’s a Ferelden thing, or perhaps just another of Cole's eccentricities. 

After that he doesn’t expect to be stopped again, he doesn’t actually know many of his other neighbors, and the ones he does know work most weekdays, so he’s pleasantly surprised to bump into the cute blond, Cullen, who lives at the end of the block while he’s taking out his trash. They’ve spoken a few times since Dorians moved here, and it’s always managed to make his day a little brighter, he’s hoping that maybe it will do the same this morning. 

Cullen doesn’t notice him at first, so Dorian takes a moment to appreciate the view of Cullen bent over to put his recycling on the curb. He also notices his hair, normally tamed into submission during the day is a bouncy halo of tangled gold around his head. It looks soft and Dorian wants to run his fingers through it. 

“Good morning,” Dorian says, leaning against the fence around Cullen’s yard. He goes for a cheery greeting, but his voice is still low and husky from waking so early. Not that he’s going to complain, because damn, does he sound good right now. Cullen’s head snaps up in surprise and Dorian grins at the blush that spreads the other man’s cheeks. 

“Dorian! Hi, yeah, uh m-morning,” Cullen stammers through. “You’re up early. Not that I would know how early you get up. I mean you’re, uh, y-you’re out early. Earlier than usual,” he lets out a little flustered huff of a laugh and drags his hand down his face for a moment. He takes a deep breath and drops his hand and offers Dorian a shy, nervous smile. “Good morning,” he says again, and Dorian returns his smile.

“Indeed,” Dorian says, still smiling and Cullen blushes more under his gaze. Dorian decides to have some pity, lest the man faints from all the blood rushing to his face, and makes some small talk. 

Cullen was always quick to blush and fluster at Dorian’s flirtations, but he still usually had an air of confidence about him. He almost never flirted back, but he always tried to hold eye contact, even after little moments when he would duck his head briefly in a failed attempt to hide his blush, and would often respond with a wit almost quick enough to match Dorian’s. Today, though, seems different. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, his shoulders are slumped, lacking the sturdiness he usually exudes, and he avoids looking Dorian in the eyes. 

They fall into an awkward silence, and Dorian almost feels hurt. It can’t be helped that sometimes people don’t care to talk to him, as opposed to what most people seem to think he _is_ aware that he isn’t the center of the universe. Still, Cullen had always been so easy to talk to, someone he looked forward to seeing and that he assumed wanted to see him as well. Now he won’t look up from a piece of chipped paint he’s playing with on the fence, brows furrowed as he worries his bottom lip. 

The silence is almost too much, and Dorian feels himself getting impatient. He thinks that if Cullen doesn’t want to talk to him he should have just said so. Cullen finally glances up at him, he opens his mouth to talk but it just twists into a grimace and he looks away again and he lifts one hand to rub at the back of his neck. Dorian can’t help the snort of rueful laughter he lets out, and Cullen’s eyes dart back to him, looking confused.

“As pleasant as this has been, I see you’re preoccupied, so I’ll be on my way,” Dorian does a better job at sounding less bitter than his laugh had lead on, but his smile is still tight. Just as Dorian is about to very sarcastically wish Cullen a nice day the man steps closer to the fence. 

“What?” he says. “I’m not, I mean I am, but you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine Cullen,” Dorian says, sounding as neutral as he can make himself. “If you didn’t want to talk you could have just-”

“No! No. Dorian, I do want to talk to you. I always want to talk to you,” Dorian blinks at him for a moment, eyes wide with surprise, and Cullen flushes when he realizes what he said. “What I mean is, normally I would love to chat with you, but I’m just really tired right now, and I keep putting my foot in it, and maybe we can just... just raincheck?”

Dorian can see it now, and he can’t help but feel guilty. Cullen looks horrible, well, Cullen isn’t capable of looking horrible, but as bad as someone that attractive could look. The circles under his eyes make it look like he hasn’t slept in weeks, and he looks pale. More so than the usual lightness of his fair Fereldan complexion. Dorian is sure he doesn't look his best after the night he had, but he wonders what could have kept Cullen up. Perhaps all of Skyhold has issues with stray werewolves. He stops wondering when he finally processes the end of what Cullen just said to him. 

“Are you asking me on a date?” Dorian can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. 

“I, uh,” Cullen takes a deep breath and smiles shyly, finally meeting Dorian’s eyes. “I guess I am.”

“Well, Cullen, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dorian teases. “I’ll let you get some rest, before you pass out on your lawn. I look forward to hearing from you about our ‘raincheck’”

“I’ll see you later, Dorian,” Cullen is grinning, his tired eyes twinkling as Dorian nods a goodbye to him. Dorian glances over his shoulder just once as he’s walking away to catch Cullen leaning on the fence, watching him leave. Cullen starts a bit at being caught, Dorian assumes probably looking at his ass, and nearly stumbles when he pushes away from the fence. Dorian just winks and Cullen runs his hands over his beat red face. 

Dorian spends the rest of the day going back and forth between impossibly happy that Cullen asked him out, and still worried about his furry visitor last night. He finally unpacks the last of his things when he gets back from the store, and spends a good chunk of the afternoon doing intensive research on werewolves. When his text tone goes off he nearly jumps out of his seat to get it out of his back pocket. 

It isn’t Cullen, like he had hoped, but Sera, telling him that if he promises to buy her friendship with as much food as she wants at lunch tomorrow they can meet up. Dorian agrees, hoping to get some answers about last night. He also is happy to get to spend some time with Sera, she’s easily the most entertaining person he’s met in Skyhold thus far, but he’d never admit that out loud. He replies, telling her to let him know when and where.

Her response is a series of lewd looking emojis that Dorian wastes about seven minutes trying to decipher before deciding he’d rather not know.


	2. A Wolf At Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian spends some time with Sera, goes on his date with Cullen, and has another run in with the wolf.

Dorian probably should have known what he was getting himself into when he agreed to pay for all of Sera’s food. He and his wallet greatly regret doing so as she polishes off her fourth burrito before he even finishes his loaded nachos. He wonders how someone so tiny could possibly eat so much as she waves down the waitress for a refill of her double chocolate milkshake. Dorian makes a face at her as she nabs a cheese soaked nacho from his plate, to which she responds by sticking out her tongue, half chewed food and all. 

“Classy,” Dorian says, rolling his eyes and tugging his plate out of her reach. 

“Pff, whatever,” Sera says, loudly draining the last of her milkshake. “Tell me about your new wolfie boyfriend.” 

“Is it normal for werefolk to show up at strangers’ houses?” Dorian asks, ignoring the kissy faces Sera was making. 

“You sure it’s a stranger?” She asks with a shrug. “We aren’t all gone when we change and all. We know where we’re supposed to be, and where we’re not.”

“The only werewolf I know in the city is you,” Dorian says. “Do you know any? Is there a pack of some sort?”

“I mean I know some, but packs aren’t allowed. Too many wolfies in one spot is too hard to handle and all that. Used to be in a pack called Red Jenny’s, but they broke up when Circles passed a law against packing up,” Sera’s train of thought derails when the waitress comes back with her milkshake. She slurps it loudly. When she puts her glass down she has a whipped cream mustache to rival Dorian’s. “So tell me about your wolfie, yeah?”

“It was big— _very_ big—and hairy,” Dorian starts.

“Pfft, not a problem for you then, yeah? Or doggy style not your type?” Sera interjects with a peel of laughter. “Get it? Because, dicks. And doggystyle because, yeah.” 

“Yes, very funny,” Dorian deadpans, dragging a hand over his face, and Sera blows a raspberry at him. 

“Whatever then, get on with it,” she says.

“I don’t know, it had light fur. I guess its ears weren’t as pointed as most werewolves I’ve seen. Floppier, less like a german shepard, more like a...” Dorian pauses for a moment to run through dog breeds in his mind, absently waving his hand as if it would hurry the process. “A pitbull I suppose, but hairier.”

“Probably human then. Elves usually have pointed ears cause,” Sera gestures to her ears. “Ya know. So if that helps at all. Also, probably lives close by if it’s registered. Skyhold’s lockdown policy is that wolfies are supposed to ‘stay within a ten block radius of their houses’,” Sera finished off imitating Cassandra’s voice. “We aren’t allowed to live in large groups close to each other. It keeps us from packing up. Lots of places don’t even give that much running room.” 

“How many blocks away from me do you live?” Dorian asks.

“Hey, wasn’t me. I’ve got better places to be pissing around than some prissypants mage’s porch. Plus,” Sera snickers. “I ain’t big and floppy.”

“No, you wouldn’t be, would you?” Dorian says. He can’t help but laugh a bit with Sera. 

“Hey!” She says, looking like she can’t quite decide if she should be offended or not. 

“Anyway, that’s not what I’m asking. I was wondering if next full moon you could come sniffing around,” Dorian suggests. “Figure out who it is for me?”

“Nah, you’re outta my range,” Sera says, tugging Dorian’s plate to herself when he’s done and licking it clean. “Could just ask Cass ‘bout it? Chances are they’re one of hers.” 

She’s right, Cassandra is the Seeker that supervises most of the local Templars and monitors the neighborhood’s mythics. If the werewolf from his porch is registered it’s very likely Cassandra knows them. If not she could run an investigation on it. 

“Telling Cassandra about this would just be inviting Templars to flounce around my house every full moon,” and due to his Tevinter roots, probably more often than that. A handful of the local Templars already give him dirty looks when they see him. He’s sure some of them are just waiting for an excuse to start some sort of confrontation. “Not good for business.” Sera makes a rude noise, earning a glare from the waitress as she drops off their bill.

“Whatever. Maybe if you weren’t a creepy voodoo witchman you wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout shit like that.”

“A what now?” Dorian gives her a look.

“Ya heard me,” She says, making a face at him in return as she stands up. “You got the evil mustache for it and all.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t make a very good Tevinter mage if I couldn’t pass for a Disney villain, now would I?” Dorian smirks when Sera lets out a peal of giggles. “I heard back from the Inquisition research facility. They have me scheduled for an interview this Wednesday, so hopefully I won’t have to be a ‘creepy voodoo witchman’ for much longer.”

“Great!” Sera grins at him. “Better get a good job, cause I’m makin’ you buy me more food to celebrate when you get it.”

“Only if we get Tevinter,” Dorian smirks at Sera when she makes a gagging noise. “You'll like it,” he promises.

“Whatever, long as you're buyin’,” she says, bumping their shoulders together when they get outside. “Text me if you get it. The job I mean.” 

They part ways a little after that, and honestly, Dorian is no closer to finding anything out about his new furry friend. When he gets home he catches sight of Cole again. This time the odd young is wandering in his garden, carrying the strange rodent from last time. A naked mole rat, apparently, that he’s named Nugget. The wrinkly little creature is wearing what looks like a tiny hand knit sweater.

“He likes you,” Cole says in his breathy voice, extending his arms so he’s holding the rat towards Dorian. “He wants to say hello.” Dorian swears the creature makes grabby hands at him with its creepy little paws.

“Oh, yes, well. Pleased to meet you?” Dorian says, withdrawing from the little rodent. “Please don’t let it touch me.” Cole pulls Nugget back close to his body, cradling it in his arms like a child, completely unphased when it starts rubbing his face with its weird hand-paws.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs softly. “He’ll like you better next time.” Dorian doubts it, but Cole has an odd way of knowing these things. In fact, Cole has a habit of knowing a lot of things he probably shouldn’t have any knowledge about. 

“Cole, can I ask you about something?” Dorian ventures. It’s possible Cole could have some answers for him, if he’s able to decipher the cryptic rambling. 

“Yes,” Cole replies, petting Nugget and watching Dorian intently.

“Recently a werewolf decided to pop by for a little visit. Do you know if it’s somebody I know? Or why they would come to me?”

“He didn’t mean to scare you,” Cole says, his eyes unfocused as he tips his head back in thought. “He didn’t know where he wanted to be, and he likes your smile.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Dorian says, even if it doesn’t shed much light on the situation. At least he’s pretty sure now that he’s met his werewolf before. 

“Gold hair, pink cheeks. His scar tugs at his lips when he smiles at you and you want to taste it,” Cole says, going on a tangent. At least this time Dorian is quick to make sense of it. “He wants to call but doesn’t want to get it wrong. You do too.” 

“Good to know,” Dorian says, biting his lip to fight his smile at the thought of Cullen fidgeting with his phone, trying to think of just the right thing to say. “I’ll see you around, Cole.”

“Yes,” Cole says, and Dorian just rolls his eyes fondly. 

When Dorian gets home he pulls out his phone and brings up Cullen’s contact information. In a moment of indecision, Dorian hesitates—would a call be unwelcome? Should he text first? Ignoring his uncharacteristic nerves, he taps the call button. It’s only a moment or two before Cullen picks up, voice eager, and Dorian can’t help his smile. 

They make plans for Saturday afternoon—they’re meeting at Cullen’s at noon and figuring out what to do from there. Not knowing what to expect, Dorian wakes up early, by his standards, to try and prepare. He’s more nervous than he would admit to—he hasn’t been on many real dates. Living a closeted life in Tevinter, followed by years living on the road had seen to that. He has his nerves hidden behind a confident smile by the time he’s knocking on Cullen’s door. 

“Hey.” Cullen greets him with a crooked smile. “I’m just finishing up, come on in.”

“Finishing up with what?” Dorian asks, following Cullen into his living room.

“I’m packing up a lunch,” Cullen says, walking into the kitchen. “I thought since it’s so nice out we could go to the park, have a little picnic. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I’ll be done in a sec.”

“Take your time,” Dorian says absently, already looking around. Cullen’s house was bigger than his, to judge by the living room. There aren’t many decorations on the walls, but it still manages to feel homey. A row of bookcases line one wall and Dorian skims his collection of books, making note of some titles they both owned. _‘Good to know he has good taste.’_

Dorian picks up one of a handful of photographs on the shelves. In it is Cullen, two pretty blond girls, a brunette man, and an elderly mabari, greying around the muzzle.

“My brother and sisters,” Cullen says, coming up next to Dorian with a cooler slung over his shoulder. “And our dog, Marigold, she lives with Mia and her family.”

“Mia is...?” 

Cullen leans over and taps one of the girls. “She’s the oldest, then me, Rose, and Bran. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I was an only child,” Dorian says, putting the picture back, not wanting to talk about his family. “Shall we get going then?”

“Right,” Cullen smiles at him again, and Dorian can’t help but think he could get used to being smiled at like that. “After you,” Cullen motions to the door. 

The park is only a few blocks away from Cullen’s house, and busy for this time of year. It’s unseasonably warm and they aren’t the only ones who thought to take advantage. Still, they manage to get a shady little picnic table in a quieter area. They chat amicably while Cullen starts pulling lunch from the cooler. Dorian trails off mid sentence, raising a brow at Cullen around the time the man pulls out the sixth sandwich, and reaches back for another. Cullen looks up at him when he stops talking and blushes a bit.

“I, uh, didn’t know what you would like, so I made… everything,” he says, and Dorian can’t help the twitch of a smile that tugs at his lips. 

“Everything? What exactly does everything consist of?” He asks.

“Bologna with mustard on wheat, ham with Fereldan cheese and tomato on white, peanut butter and grape jam on raisin bread, and more. They’re all labeled,” Cullen says as he puts the last of ten sandwiches on the table. “I… may have gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit. But I appreciate it. No sides?” Dorian asks, peeking into the cooler, and Cullen blanches. 

“Maker, I forgot,” Cullen runs his hands over his face, muttering to himself, and Dorian feels bad for asking.

“It’s no problem, really,” Dorian says, placing a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “There’s five sandwiches here for each of us, I’m sure we’ll manage.” Cullen smiles shyly at him, but doesn’t look convinced. 

“If it makes up for lack of non-sandwich food, I did bring sparkling apple cider,” Cullen pulls out the bottle and two plastic champagne flutes. “Nonalcoholic of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian sighs, giving Cullen a playful smile. “I guess we’ll just have to get drinks tonight.”

“Planning our second date before we’re even halfway done with our first?” Cullen teases as he pops open the cider. “I’m not sure if you’re being eager, or cocky.”

“A little of both, maybe,” Dorian replies, pulling a gyro towards him. 

“I can’t do tonight, I have a meeting,” Cullen says. “Maybe we can meet up again next weekend?” He bites his lip, blushing a bit and not quite meeting Dorian’s eyes as he pours their drinks.

“I’d like that.”

“Great,” Cullen graces him with yet another breathtakingly bright smile, and Dorian curses the butterflies he feels in his stomach. “I could pick you up when I’m done with work on friday. Is eight thirty good for you?”

 

“Now who’s being eager,” Dorian cocks a brow at him, but smiles good naturedly. “I recently got hired for a new job and my shift ends at eight. Maybe we should play it by ear?” 

“That’s great! Where at?”

“I’ll be working in the main labs at the Inquisition research facility just outside of town,” Dorian announces proudly. “Finally putting my talents back to good use.”

“Really?” Cullen asks, surprised, and Dorian just gives him a curious look until he continues. “We’ll be working together then.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, not directly. I’m head of security, so I don’t tend to be around the lab all that often,” Cullen shrugs. “But still, same company, building.”

“Security, hmm? I think it suits you. Do you get a uniform and everything?” Dorian says, wiggling his brows suggestively at the man.

“I do,” Cullen is blushing, despite his smirk. “Have a thing for men in uniform?”

“I might. For the right man in the right uniform,” Dorian smiles at Cullen, who laughs awkwardly and fidgets in his seat, as if he hadn’t planned far enough ahead to be ready for his flirting to be returned.

“You know,” Cullen says, biting his lip. “You technically get a uniform too.”

“I get a lab coat and scrubs,” Dorian says with a huff of laughter.

“I don’t know, lab coats can be pretty sexy.”

“And scrubs?”

“I think you could make it work,” Cullen says with a fond smile that leaves Dorian speechless. For a while they just eat in silence. Dorian occasionally catches Cullen admiring him out the corner of his eye and winks at him. The man blushes the most delightful shade of pink each time. 

“How long have you been with Inquisition?” Dorian asks before the silence settling over them has a chance to become uncomfortable. 

“Since the beginning, more or less,” Cullen shrugs. “Cassandra Pentaghast, I’m assuming you know her?” Dorian nods. “She was a big part of it when they were just starting up and is a huge part of why so many mythics are allowed to work on such big projects with next to no interference from the circle. That’s where I came in. I had recently, uh, retired from the Templars, and was out of work, so she offered me a position. I basically took over her position as the go between for the circle and Inquisition and also became of head of security.” 

“Did you work with Cassandra when you were a Templar?” 

“No, we met in Kirkwall actually. I lived there briefly before coming to Skyhold.”

“I’ve only been to Kirkwall once, a bit of a shithole if I’m being honest,” Dorian says. 

“Tell me about it,” Cullen says with a laugh.

“You’re a bit young to be retired, aren’t you?” Dorian asks. 

“Well, there was an… incident. I was leading a task force in a mission in the Brecilian forest, it didn’t end well…” Cullen trails off, not looking at Dorian and bouncing his legs nervously. Dorian reaches over and gently takes his hand. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Dorian says, and Cullen turns his hand over to squeeze it.

“Thank you,” he says with a grateful smile. They finish eating and spend some time just walking around the park and people watching together for a while before they have to part ways. Cullen goes out of his way to walk Dorian back to his house, and promises to call him again soon. Dorian is expecting some sort of goodbye kiss, and gets it when Cullen awkwardly kisses the back of his hand, blushing hard and grinning. Dorian can’t help but feel utterly charmed as he watches Cullen walk away, a spring in his step. 

By the time the next full moon comes around Dorian has fallen into a fairly comfortable routine. His work at Inquisition keeps him busy most weekdays, and occasionally weekends when he’s feeling particularly keen on a topic he’s assigned. It helps give him a feeling of permanency. He still can’t fight that nagging little voice in the back of his head that it can’t last, but spending his free time with the few friends he’s made and the few dates he’s been able to have with Cullen help him feel more welcome in the city. 

The sky is clear, and the moon is shining brighter than the last full moon. Dorian spent most of the day waiting nervously to see what will happen tonight. He passed the morning easily enough, having brunch with Cole. He couldn’t call Sera for a distraction, and Cullen had told him earlier this week that he wouldn’t be able to see him this weekend, so most of the day was spent alone in his place after leaving Cole’s. He knows there’s a chance the wolfman might not even come back, but that doesn’t stop his fidgeting once the sun starts to set. 

Dorian busies himself with translating an old Tevinter tome he brought home from work. He contemplates putting on some music to fill the silence that’s filling his house, but he doesn’t want to risk missing any noise that could indicate the werewolf is back. He has to urge himself not to check the windows at every sound he hears. 

When the words on the page he’s trying to translate start to blur together a bit too much he decides it’s time for a break. He walks over to his door to check out the window next to it, rubbing his eyes until he’s seeing stars and nearly walks into the wall. He leans on the doorframe and looks out the window. He’s not entirely sure how to feel when he sees the wolf there. He expected it to show up again, but a large part of him was hoping that it wouldn’t. 

It’s sniffing around in the garden to the left of his porch. It’s much brighter out than last month and he can tell now that its fur is a blondish color that reminds him of a golden retriever. When it looks up and catches sight of Dorian it trots up onto the porch, tail wagging lazily. It lays down at the window again and stares up at Dorian with puppy eyes, making itself look as small as it can. 

“Somehow, I can’t say I’m overly surprised you came back,” Dorian says, crossing his arms as he looks down at the beast. It just wags it tail and lets out an excited huff. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a stalker. Though somehow you manage to be less menacing than my usual stalkers. And at least you’re unlikely to try to kidnap me.” 

The wolf sits up at that, its head cocking to the side curiously and it lets out a whine. The look it gives Dorian can only be described as concerned. Dorian waves away the concern and continues. 

“Look,” he says. “I don’t think you have any ill intentions, so you can stay and do whatever it is you do. Just don’t use my yard as your toilet, for the love of the maker, and don’t try getting in the house at all. There are wards on the doors and windows and I’d rather you not set yourself on fire on my property.” 

The wolfman just blinks slowly at him for a moment and it’s tail starts wagging again as it realizes what he said. Dorian sighs and closes his eyes for a moment and wonders what the hell he’s doing. When he opens them the wolf is still staring up at him, no longer hunched and trying to appear small. Its nearly as tall as him just sitting. He starts to move away and the wolf cocks its head again and lets out a little confused yelp. 

“What?” Dorian asks, and the wolf moves closer to the window and whines at him. “I don’t understand what you want,” he says, frustrated. The wolf just lets out soft, huffy barks and lays down again, before sitting up and shuffling its front paws awkwardly, giving him puppy eyes that Dorian is already starting to hate because of how well they work. It’s not fair for something that could easily rip off one of his arms to look so pathetically adorable. “I’m not coming out if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

Dorian spends more of the night than he was expecting talking to the wolf. Talking at would be more accurate, but he’s sure it understands him just fine, and he might not be the dog whisperer but he feels like he did a fairly decent job at reading the creature's body language. He’s exhausted when he wakes up in the morning and texts Cullen to ask him if he wants him to grab him anything from the cafe he usually stops in on his walk to the bus. 

He doesn’t hear back from Cullen, so he just grabs an overly sweet cappuccino. He doesn’t see Cullen at all during the day, which isn’t entirely unusual. They’re both busy and don’t always get to take their breaks at the same time, but usually Cullen tries to stop by the lab to at least say hello if he can. On his way home Dorian texts him again to ask if he’s doing alright. Cullen replies that he was feeling unwell, but will be back tomorrow, and asks if Dorian would want to have dinner with him when they get off. 

Dorian smiles down at his phone and tells Cullen that he’d love to. They go out again a few times through the month. It’s all very slow to Dorian compared to his previous relationships, if they can be called as much. It’s charming, if a bit frustrating at times. As much as he loves the butterflies he gets in his stomach when Cullen takes his hand, or gives him one of those small, private smiles that seem to shine brighter than the sun, he’s not entirely sure what they are. He tries not to overthink it, and just enjoy the company of this handsome, wonderful man for what it is and doesn’t push for more. 

Things don’t change much by the next full moon. When the day finally rolls around and he’s setting his wards Dorian decides to put a large bowl of clean water, and some jerky he bought earlier out on the porch. He doesn’t check this time to see if the wolf comes. He hears the tell-tale signs of it on the porch and occasionally movement in his yard catches his eye through the window. In the morning the bowl of water is nearly empty, though the jerky is mostly untouched. He decides he’ll have to get something better for next time.


End file.
